Psychosis
by SeascapeMural
Summary: Alone in exile, energon-deprived and sky hungry, Starscream begins to hear things that have long since passed.


**H**e wondered, on occasion, if it was his fault. And they told him it was, whispering to him sweetly how it was so.

Exile, self-imposed as it was, was cruel. Starscream could not fly, and the sensors along the edges of his wings ached, _physically_, the pulsing burn through his systems making him shiver and plating quake. Nerves frayed, the lack of stimuli wearing him thin. He _needed_ the sky, the air flowing over his wings, the way he could manipulate every twist and turn in his forward trajectory. It was what he was built for; it was an addiction, one programmed carefully into a flier's hard drive. Starscream had never been without the means of flight long enough to experience it himself.

_And now he felt he was losing his mind._

The darkness of this planet was peculiar. Shadows still taunted the edges of his vision, the gnarled branches of trees twisting everything into macabre countenances of vague familiarity. His energon pulsed weakly, a sign of how little he had left in his tanks. The Seeker was almost completely drained of his reserves, the greases between hinges and along bare plates drying as the lifeblood was directed to more necessary functions: Spark, ventilations, wings… processor.

Something darker coiled in his spark, and the ache in his wings seemed coupled by the sudden pangs from his core. It wasn't a new sensation, not in the slightest — the solar cycles of the planet trembling and roiling with a rage, air and thunder and ground quaking and ripping apart, had been accompanied by the pains, the ones that came within. In his mind's eye, when his optics were on the rarest occasion offline, he could almost picture a figure, one wreathed in violet fog and smelt of decaying metal…

His recharge was always scarce and erratic in timing, for he was defenseless when powered down, near so when online…. And in the quiet, empty spaces of his processor, he heard them. Their voices, nearly forgotten and once welcome, now hissed and begged, accused and raged._ It is your fault_, they taunted, silvery voices whispering. _If you had been among us, we would have lived. Instead, here we see the day that you fall. Your mind is rotting, and your body is soon to follow…_

_You are the reason we lie in rusting piles,  
our corpses left for the elements to take._

_{ No! }_ came the abrupt burst of static, and he shot up from his place on the ground, stray flecks of dirt making his gears grind uncomfortably. He paid the sensation no mind, his frame instead curling inwards, knee actuators drawn in towards his scratched silver chassis. His thinned appendages wrapped around his legs, drawing himself in further, and he shook, carefully, so the voices wouldn't notice that he could hear them, that they affected him so.

"No…"

Delicate touches brushed against neglected sensors, the ache at the base of his wings quieting for a sweet moment, and he stilled, optics no longer seeing the crooked shadows arching over him, only the inner recesses of his mind.

_Starscream…_ His voice was soft, as always, the gentle lilt the Seeker's saving grace.

"I knew you would come," the silver mech murmured, clawed appendages pulling his limbs tighter to himself.

_Did you?_ A small chuckle, one that left the Seeker yearning for more. He felt circles being traced on the insides of his wings, and he sighed.

"They… they won't leave me alone anymore… They're right, aren't they?"

_They lie_, came the hushed response._ I forgive you, Starscream. Isn't that what matters?_ The phantom in his mind only smiled, cerulean optics glinting with a subtle sadness.

"Yes… I miss you, Skyfire…"

_I'm right here, Star… Can you see me? I'm not going anywhere. Rest now, I'm here… They can't find you now._

Starscream nodded, optics shuttering closed. And, he wished, that Skyfire wasn't such a good liar. There was nothing the white shuttle could do to stop them, for in the silence, the clinging shadows of his memories were all that remained. They never gave in, they never seemed to care. In a way, Skyfire was right; they didn't find him. They never had to try.

_He supposed it was because they never left._


End file.
